Amor vincit omina
by Faith1
Summary: 1x2x1: After the war Heero Yuy is left alone to cope with the shock of peace as his friends and one time lover return to their lives. How will he cope when they are all forced to come together in an environment worse than hell itself?


**_Amor vincit omina._****__**

****

**_"Cruelty has a Human heart_**

**_And Jealousy a Human Face,_**

**_Terror, the Human Form Devine,_**

**_And Secrecy, the Human Dress."_****__**

****

**_Extract from 'A Devine Image' by William Blake_**

****

            My life is empty.  Hollow, meaningless, never-ending cycles of night and day.  I yearn for a beacon, a light, someone or thing to pierce the dullness of my world.  In all honesty I know for what I yearn, for who I yearn.  Someone who's presence lifts those who surround him, who takes them for a ride whether they want it or not.  I'm sure you know of whom I speak.  

            I shall not bring him here.  This vow I made to myself years ago, as unbreakable as Gundanium, as strong as diamonds.  This dark shroud is meant for me alone, I would not have it touch him.  I would not have me touch him.  Hands such as mine, which drip with blood unseen, are meant to kill, not caress.  His hands too are stained, this I know, but I would not care.  For long years have I been bathed in the blood of innocence.  

            One night, long ago, we shared.  I hated him, loathed and loved him for that night.  Before I recognised myself for what I am, before I made my vow, before I swathed myself in darkness; I touched him.  Hot and hard and passion filled was that night and so pure a thing I have never witnessed before or since.  I gave all I had and took all was given in the shade of twilight and we indulged in the simple pleasures of the flesh.  

Nothing and everything changed.

            I try all I can think of, mundane chores and activities, hobbies which are meant to soothe the soul.  None have worked.  I tended a garden, a small plantation of simple flowers, all of which withered and died.  I purchased a piano and taught myself to play.  While the technicalities offer no boundaries the notes sound forced, sound false.  I heard Quatre play once, a beautiful and haunting melody which I tried to repeat.  Music is the language of the soul, this is what I have heard and rightly so, for my music is dead and empty, a mirror for what lies inside.  I painted for a while.  Canvas after canvas of dull, murky colours against the jarring hues of blood and fire.  No clear forms but a clear message and one which disturbed me to see.  So I shut away my oils and canvas in a room with a grand piano and dead red roses.

            Then I wrote.  Poetry at first but in the steady flow of tormented words I saw the same disturbance as in my paintings.  And so many sheaves of paper were locked away with my other failings.   For now I write my life, these words you read upon this screen or page.  My mind wanders as I write this and the careful coherence which I have lived by is vanished from my fingertips.  

            My name is Heero Yuy.  You know me by reputation.  Many have told the story of my so called "accomplishments" in the Wars, distorted as those accounts may have been.  That is not the story I am here to tell.  For me the Wars were a bloody prologue; the real battle, for my sanity and my soul, came with the declaration of peace.

*          *          *

            This is the story of Heero Yuy.  A man known by reputation.  Many have told the story of his so called "accomplishments" in the Wars, distorted as those accounts may have been.  That is not the story I am here to tell.  The wars were a bloody prologue; the real battle, for his sanity and his soul, came with the declaration of peace.

            The year is After Colony 198.  Under the governing hand of the UNSA the race of mankind is currently at peace.  This will not last.  In recorded civilisation mankind has gone for only 16 years without a war.  Destruction is in the spirit of mankind.  

Destruction is the spirit of mankind.

            Children are particularly vindictive.  They are free from the majority of self and societal imposed rules that grown people suffer from.  This cruelty extends into teenage years, warped from the somewhat vicious innocence of youth to a purposefully malicious being with the intelligence to inflict real damage.  As such it was probably not the brightest of ideas for the five pilots of the mobile suits called "Gundams" to enter into a realm almost as brutal as the Roman coliseums of old, High School.

            Raised under extraordinary circumstances and trained for mass murder and destruction even the gentlest of the five was considered a menace.  It came to pass that the UNSA Supreme Court conscripted the pilots to High School.  This occurred in an attempt to judge if they were indeed capable of living lives outside conflict.  Of course it would not do to send five highly trained terrorists to a school full of innocents, as such they were enrolled in a restriction and rehabilitation facility, a school for teenagers who ran wild, who maimed and raped and killed.  All along the pilots wondered how they, who had fought for the concepts of peace, freedom and morality, had neatly been filed into this category.  

            This sentence did not appeal to the angry young men.  The theatre of war had honed their minds and wits to a razors edge for no-one survived the fields of red if they were simple-minded.  The complexities of High School were so far below them that the very idea they attend such a place was an insult.  Yet they were bound to attend or be made outlaws and monsters in the eyes of the world.  

            The Supreme Court had not been blind to the astounding intellect of the five young men.  They were being sent to the facility not to test their mental prowess but to assess their ability to live and work alongside volatile individuals, who would have no qualms in baiting their tempers, and not seriously harm or kill them.

            Five young men who had saved the Earth from destruction on more than one occasion, men who had faced horrific training, who all, at one time or another, had experienced immense personal emotional grief and _this_ was to be the greatest challenge of their lives.

            For Heero Yuy, a young man struggling to understand his sexuality, who had little to no emotional experience, a dark and pitted past and hair-trigger reflexes, this was to be hell. 

To be Continued . . .

A/N – Well a little experiment here on my part!  Lemme know what you think and if you'd like this continued!  Please?

Disclaimer – I don't own Gundam Wing and I'm not making a profit!  Fairly obvious, no?


End file.
